


Come Get A Hold Of Me

by theinvisibledisaster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellamy Has Feelings, Clarke has feelings, Don't @ Me, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, I Don't Even Know, POV Bellamy Blake, POV Clarke Griffin, Sad Clarke, Season/Series 06 Speculation, Touch-Starved, Worried Bellamy, and somehow also turned into a fake dating au, because they would never, but not really, it's a feelings-fest, this fic took on a life of its own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisibledisaster/pseuds/theinvisibledisaster
Summary: Clarke is overwhelmed by the intensity of being around a civilization after six years of solitude with Madi.She is also very touch-starved.Bellamy notices.





	Come Get A Hold Of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abldav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abldav/gifts).



> Happy birthday to my tumblr wife [@fen-ha-fuck-you!!](https://fen-ha-fuck-you.tumblr.com/) Every day I'm still amazed that someone as cool as you chose to be my friend. Like, honestly, what gods did I please to deserve you???
> 
> The title comes from "Recovery" by Broods, which is a song my wife herself recommended for this fic, even if she didn't realise she was doing it. I'm so good at surprises, you guys. ;)
> 
> Anyway, AGES ago, she probably doesn't even remember, this exchange took place about the possibilites of Blarke hugs in s6:
> 
>  **[Me:](https://talistheintrovert.tumblr.com/)** _clarke's love language is Physical Touch, so, she won't be able to resist_  
>   
>  **[Lindsey:](http://chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky.tumblr.com/)** _But I can see Clarke feeling like she isn't allowed to anymore??? And pulling away a bit - Bellamy just like, 'listen here you, I was without your hugs for 6 years and I am over it, sit your butt down here and let me hug you'_  
>   
>  **[Meg:](http://chants-de-lune.tumblr.com/)** _she's touch-starved enough as it is_  
>   
>  **[Sam:](https://anne-shirley-blythe.tumblr.com/)** _clarke purposely depriving herself of the comfort that is bellamy's touch because she feels like she needs to punish herself? yes_  
>   
>  **[Abby:](https://fen-ha-fuck-you.tumblr.com/)** _consider: bellamy and clarke scouting ahead and finding the new civilization, but the new civilization assumes they're Together™ so they just give them the one room with the One Bed to sleep in before they head back to everyone else. and bellamy and clarke are too awkward with this situation to ask for another bed so they just climb in and Do Not Talk About It. but then they wake up with their arms around each other absolutely as close as they could possibly be_  
>  there was more to that paragraph but pretty much all her ideas ended up in this fic (what can i say, i'm a people pleaser) and I don't want to spoil it, so. 
> 
> bASICALLY, then they said, "someone has to write it" and i said, "BITCH I'M ALREADY ON IT"...... and then i didn't bring it up for two months because I've been planning this reveal, like an evil villain rubbing her hands together in the dark. This is how you show up your other friends guys: true dedication to being the Best Wife. 
> 
> I've been avoiding spoilers like the plague, I only know what the trailers told me, so let's assume that this fic takes place after Blarke have already talked everything (most things) through in the season (PLEASE JASON, GIVE ME BLARKE RECONCILIATION) and that it's when they're all squared away with the new society. Or something like that. Listen, I don't pretend to have any idea what I'm doing, I'm a Bi Disaster Writer With No Impulse Control. 
> 
> Also, special shoutout to my first wife [@clarkgriffon](https://clarkgriffon.tumblr.com/) for letting me yell at her while I was writing this - you're a legend.
> 
> Anyway, Abby you're an absolute icon and I'm so unbelievably lucky to have you as my wife. Happy birthday babe, I hope the first episode is as good as you deserve and failing that, I hope this tiny fic makes up for it. <3 <3 <3

_You would lie with arms around me_  
_I'd be singing you to sleep_  
_Every morning wake up to me_  
_No one else you'd rather see_

 _If we could take some time out_  
_Remember where we've been_  
_The only one I know now_  
_I can't just let you leave_  
_I know it won't be easy_  
_They tell me all the time_  
_But nothing would be harder_  
_Than knowing you're not mine_

 _I will be your home, keep you warm when it's cold_  
_I will try to be what you need when you're low_  
_I can only promise the girl that I am_  
_I'll do anything that I can_  
**Recovery – Broods**

* * *

 

She hated it when he touched her.

Well, no. That wasn’t quite true.

She _wanted_ to hate it when he touched her.

A casual tap on her shoulder to get her attention, fingers wrapped around her elbow to steer her somewhere, the occasional palm pressed between her shoulder blades to placate her as they moved through crowds. It was simultaneously too much and never enough and it was tearing her apart.

Unfortunately, he was the only person who could without making her fight or flight instinct kick in.

What made it worse was that he _knew,_ or thought he did. Bellamy had been the first to notice that on the ship, she would disappear for hours at a time. He kept finding her standing at windows or hiding in the algae farm, but he never questioned why she wanted to be alone, he simply told her where she was needed. He never pushed.

For weeks it had been like that, but she had been dealing with it, coping with the sensory overload as best she could. Then, their scouting group had touched down and everything had gone haywire. But after those _interesting_ three weeks, they had finally reached a settlement with Sanctum. Madi, Jordan, Abby and the rest were coming down in a few days, but for now it was just them and the second scouting group, with Raven, Diyoza, Octavia and a few others.

Again, it was Bellamy’s eyes on her as they walked. Bellamy who saw how twitchy she got when they were led through the new city, arms tucked tightly into her sides and flinching at every person that moved past. It was all getting to her; the sounds, the movement, the jostling from people rushing past. She was trying to hide her discomfort, and succeeding for the most part, because the people she used to call her friends no longer even looked at her.

But not him.

He noticed.

“Hey,” he had said, coming up beside her. “Crowds?”

She sent him an apologetic smile. “It was just me and Madi for six years. I’m not really sure how to just… be around people. Not anymore.”

Something hardened in his features and she wondered what he was thinking about. He quickly schooled it and he kept his head facing forward while they walked, except for the occasional glance in her direction; checking in.

Someone bumped into her as they passed and she recoiled, catching the instinctive gasp before he left her throat. She swallowed, trying to calm herself, and Bellamy's eyes crossed to her again.

“So. It bothers you.” It wasn’t a question.

She bit her lip. “It’s a bit… overwhelming sometimes, yeah.”

“Does…” it was his turn to pause. “What helps?”

She shrugged a little helplessly. “Honestly, nothing. When it’s just one person, it’s okay, that’s something to focus on, but when it’s more, like the crowds, or even more than two or three people, it’s just, it’s…”

“A lot.” He finished for her.

She didn’t say anything, just directed her gaze forward, pinning it to the back of Emori’s head so she didn’t slip up and look at him. They were still pushing through the busy markets to get to the temporary quarters Russell had allowed them and she was trying not to panic at every slight rustle of material or shout in the distance. Someone brushed past her going in the opposite direction, and she couldn’t help the flinch that made her entire body tense at the unnatural intrusion. Again. 

She was so focussed on not looking at Bellamy, embarrassed, that it took her by surprise when he splayed his hand between her shoulder blades, gently guiding her forward; not that she needed it. She physically felt her muscles tighten all over her body at the slight touch.

They continued walking for a few steps in silence, until Bellamy ducked his head a little closer to her ear and murmured, “Better?”

She pondered it. Because it _was_ better, in a way. Better than trying not to wince at every sensation, better because it focussed all of her energy to one place; worse because Bellamy was standing so _close_ and he was touching her and her nerve endings might actually catch fire beneath his fingertips. Worse because it made her think about kissing him even more than she already had been. Worse because he was so genuinely unaffected beside her.

In the end, she didn’t want to lie to Bellamy, and his question had been about the crowd, not about the fact that she was hopelessly in love with him. So she just nodded a little, curt, and he drew back enough to walk at a normal speed again, keeping his palm pressed gently into her spine.

Russell greeted them at the gates of the Janus city limits.

“Welcome!” He smiled around at them all, no shadows clouding his features. “If you’ll follow me this way, I’ll take you to the temporary rooms we have set up for you. Except, of course, for Mr Blake and Miss Griffin. They will be accompanying me to the castle as your vanguard. To liaise, see if my word is as good as I say it is.”

A flurry of arguments started up, along with some particularly nasty glares in Clarke’s direction, and she opened her mouth to bow out willingly, but Bellamy held his free hand up to silence the complaints.

“Russell’s right, we should go.”

Raven scoffed. “Sure. Have fun trying not to get stabbed in the back.”

“I dunno Rave, this is similar to running away – slinking off to the capitol – maybe it’ll suit her.” Emori snapped.

“And–” Echo started.

“That’s enough!” Bellamy raised his voice, effectively shutting them down. Russell only watched them silently, amusement tinting his cheeks. Bellamy scrubbed his free hand down his face. “I don’t care if you don’t trust Clarke anymore; I do. And if any of you would care to remember, _I’m_ the one she left behind, so if any of us should be angry, it’s me. If that’s not good enough for you: Monty and Harper forgave her enough to wake her up first. So all of you need to get on board or shut the hell up, because I’m not changing my mind.”

They all looked murderous, but nobody said anything.

He nudged the hand against Clarke’s back a little harder, urging her forward, and she let him take them past the group. She didn’t look back, just followed Russell as he strode towards a kind of vehicle. They climbed in and sat side by side, knees just barely touching. His hands were back in his own lap and she tried to remind herself that it was a good thing.

Russell slid in to the seats across from them, leaning back and tapping the wall behind his head, where the driver was presumably sitting. The vehicle quickly lifted into the air, and Bellamy half-saluted down at their friends as they flew over them being shown into their rooms.

Clarke kept her eyes firmly inside the ship, trying to combat the anxiety she felt at the humming of the car beneath her seat, buzzing around her head. When the ship swerved without warning, her hand flew out instinctively, grabbing his wrist. She clung to it even after the ship righted itself and continued on its straightforward path.

Bellamy’s eyes flicked between her vicelike grip on his arm and her face, and instead of shaking her off, like she half-expected him to, he lifted her hand and covered it with both of his own, thumb brushing against her wrist soothingly. It helped  _(god, did it help)_ and she felt his touch wash over her like rain. She met his gaze nervously, but he only looked concerned, not irritated or upset, so she didn’t attempt to pull back.

“Sorry,” Russell said, not sounding particularly sorry at all. His eyes crinkled with mirth, “We share the sky with birds here.”

Bellamy huffed a polite laugh. “We didn’t share the sky at all on Earth. Not a lot of flying cars out there, so the birds had free reign.”

“Probably best, to be honest. We’re getting lazier the more of these we build.”

The light back and forth continued all the way to the capitol, but Clarke stayed silent, overwhelmed by the feeling of her small hand encompassed by both of Bellamy’s larger ones.

When Russell turned to open a small window and speak to the driver, Bellamy asked quietly, “You okay?”

“Fine.” She managed.

He didn’t look convinced, but before he had a chance to say anything, Russell grinned at them both, “Welcome to Janus Castle!”

Clarke hadn’t even noticed the vehicle touching down, but the door was already being pulled open and two women were standing by a sunny pathway with smiles plastered on their faces. Bellamy climbed out first, releasing her hand in the process, only to tangle his fingers through hers and help her out.

This was really starting to fuck with her head.

Especially when he didn’t let go of her hand as Russell waved them off and they followed the women through a series of gardens.

They were talking about the history of the old castle, or mansion, or whatever it was, and Bellamy was listening intently, clearly fascinated. Clarke couldn’t help but stare at him as he absorbed everything; she knew how much he loved history, and the new planet was bursting with things he didn’t know. She wondered if he even realised they were still holding hands, and then she found herself wondering if he held hands with Echo a lot and it made her heart clench. She didn’t notice that she was slowing down until Bellamy squeezed her hand and tugged it gently, bringing her back into step with him.

_(So, not an unconscious thing then)._

It wasn’t until the women stopped in front of a single open blue door, handed Bellamy a key, and left with the utterance of, “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay!” that Clarke realised they might have been giving off a certain kind of impression with the hand-holding.

Which ended the second they stepped through the threshold of the apartment and rounded the corner into the bedroom, to find that there was only one bed.

“Uh.” Clarke pointedly avoided looking at him, picking at her nails.

Bellamy winced.

The silence stretched out as both of them struggled to come up with something to say, until the door swung shut behind them with a snick that made them both start.

That seemed to spur him to action. “Listen, I can go out there and tell them we’re not– that this isn’t– I’ll get you another room.”

“Bellamy.” She said firmly, halting him as he made for the hallway. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

He turned back to her, but he didn’t say anything.

She took a breath, still looking at her nails. “They think we’re… together, or married, or… whatever, and if we only tell them that we’re not _now,_ it looks like we’ve been lying to them for three weeks. We only just finished being able to negotiate getting everybody in, it would be foolish to put that in jeopardy now.”

She allowed herself one look at him, but she didn’t make it to his face. Her eyes were captured by his fingers, twisting into his sleeve the way they had been when he told her he poisoned Octavia.

“I… I know this might make things awkward, for you and Echo–”

“–we broke up.” Bellamy dropped his arms and started pacing around the room, looking for something. When he didn’t find it, he went through the wardrobe and drawers; finding them empty. He quickly moved out into the living room to keep searching, and she followed instinctively.

“Oh.” She said, unable to come up with much more than that. Eventually, of course, she managed, “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, head hidden behind an open cupboard door as he rummaged through it. She had a feeling that was on purpose; Bellamy had never been good at hiding his emotions, especially from her. “It had to happen, really.”

“I didn’t realise that you weren’t happy, you always seemed– were things not good, or… sorry, I’m sorry, it’s not my business,” now it was her turn to hide her expression, turning towards the bathroom door. She cleared her throat. “There’s no lock on here, but I’m sure we can manage so long as we pay attention.”

He responded with a low grunt and when she turned around, he was tossing a pile of towels onto the couch.

“Uh, what are you doing?” She asked.

“There aren’t any bedsheets.” He said matter-of-factly.

She glanced at the bed, still not getting it. “What?”

“The planet gets cold at night, and there aren’t any bedsheets in the cupboards, so I found a substitute.”

“Bellamy are you trying to sleep on the _couch_ , with _towels?”_   She griped. “Are you kidding me? You’re taking the bed.”

He shook his head immediately, “No. Absolutely not.”

“You’re not arguing with me on this, if you sleep on the couch, I _will_ sleep on the floor, and then we’ll both be wasting it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re sleeping in the bed, Blake.”

“You’re not sleeping on the couch, Clarke.”

“You’re right, I’ll be on the ground.”

“No, you won’t. This is a strange hill to die on–”

“–if it bothers you that much, we’ll share the bed, okay?” She snapped, before she could think better of it.

He looked like he was ready to argue, but when his rebuttal came out, it was softer than she expected. “It won’t, uh, it won’t bother you?”

She frowned. “Why would it bother me? You’re the one with a girlfr– shit, sorry.” She wanted to punch herself in the face, but she had a feeling Bellamy would take issue with that.

To his credit, he didn’t even seem to notice the slip-up, too busy anxiously fiddling with the cuff of his jacket again. “Because I don’t want you to get overwhelmed or anything – the last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

Her heart swelled with that old, familiar surge of affection for Bellamy Blake. Even now, after everything, he was worried about her, and even now, after everything, she couldn’t stop loving him.

“I’m not broken, Bellamy,” she snapped, instead of doing what she wanted, which was smiling like an idiot and maybe admitting that she really wanted to kiss him.

“I’m not saying that,” he growled back _(and wow, that really should not be doing it for her)._

She sighed. “I know you’re not. Sorry.”

“Stop apologising,” he ordered, but there was that tilt to his lips that always arrived when he was teasing her, and she relaxed a little. He did too, and soon they were both just standing across from each other in the living room, a quiet moment with each other for the first time since they’d woken everybody else up over a month ago.

When it eventually broke, it was because of a knock at the door. Bellamy strode over and Clarke scurried back towards the bedroom to investigate. The bed was pretty big, so there wasn’t a huge danger of them being pressed together so long as they kept to their own sides. She refused to examine why she was disappointed about that. She noticed her bag, along with Bellamy’s, had been placed in front of the set of drawers against the wall, and crouched down to unzip it.

The unmistakable sound of Bellamy’s footsteps returned and without looking around, she asked, “Left or right?”

“What?”

She feigned a casual demeanour when she stood up with a bunch of her own underwear in her hands and turned around. “To sleep. Do you… prefer a side?”

He blinked. “Uh. I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” She felt her face heating up as she stepped past him to stuff the underwear in the drawer of the right bedside table. She’d rather they were there than able to get mixed up in his things in the main chest of drawers, and plus, the tinge in his cheeks and the way he glanced away when he realised what she had been holding almost made it worth it. _(Almost)._

She went back to the bags and Bellamy started pulling his own shirts out and placing the folded piles into the top drawer. She started from the bottom and figured that they would both work their ways in until they ended up sharing space in whatever was left.

It was all rather domestic.

She hated it.

_(No, she didn’t)._

 

 

 

Russell had invited them to come to a banquet with him and the rest of the capitol – including their friends – as kind of an induction, so they showered and changed clothes without too much awkwardness and then headed down there together.

It was a slightly uncomfortable walk – quiet – and they both kept their eyes forward.

Bellamy didn’t reach for her again _(not that she expected him to. Just, maybe… wanted him to. A little bit. Shut up)_ until they reached the main foyer of the castle and found hundreds of people milling around. Clarke felt her breath hitch at the sudden crowd, and immediately took a panicked step back, coming into contact with Bellamy’s outstretched forearm. She glanced up at him only to find that he was already looking at her, checking in. He must have realised she was about to freak out and reached out, only for her to back into him anyway. He curled his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

“You good?” He asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, but she let him guide her the rest of the way to the main table, and she only flinched a few times, which was a damn sight better than she ever would have otherwise.

_(She was so very, **very** fucked)._

There were two empty seats between Russell and Raven, and he gestured them over, smiling. Clarke tensed, but they had been seen; they couldn’t leave now. Bellamy pulled out the chair closest to Russell and stood back to offer it to her and she shot him a grateful half-smile as she sat. Diyoza was across from her, smirking, and Clarke made a point of glaring at her before Russell drew her into conversation, which only seemed to increase Diyoza’s mirth.

She reached for the nearest pitcher of wine and poured herself a healthy glass. She was really going to need it if she was gonna get through this evening in one piece.

Luckily, dinner went well, for the most part. Bellamy’s arm on the table and the way he leaned towards Raven as he spoke acted as a reasonable shield, and none of the rest on Bellamy’s right made any effort to talk to Clarke, so she managed to keep her head down. There was still at least one pair of hateful eyes on Clarke at all times, but she ignored it and spoke largely to Russell, Diyoza and occasionally Bellamy, when he wasn’t talking to his friends.

“Romans would have massive banquets like this, although…”

His arm brushed hers as they both reached for something at the same time and she recoiled, not expecting the sudden touch. He placed a soothing hand over her forearm, barely stopping mid-sentence in his history tirade to Murphy to check that she was okay. Her small nod was enough for him to pick right back up where he’d left off.

“…the Romans would deliberately make themselves vomit so they could continue eating and spend even longer at the feasts.”

Murphy made a face. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, but it’s–”

“No, I mean you, still thinking I care about history after years of me telling you I don’t.”

Bellamy shared a look with him, a look that reeked of shared moments, and Clarke turned back to her food, trying to ignore the pit of loss in her stomach that reopened every time anyone alluded to the six years they all spent without her.

Diyoza saw the way she’d shrunk into herself and poured her a glass of whiskey, sliding it across the table, commiserative. They knocked their drinks together before throwing them back, and then Diyoza was asking her about the art supplies Russell gave her and she could almost forget that moments earlier she’d been heartbroken.

By the time they were at the dessert course she was a few wine glasses in and had been roped into a debate that Miller and Octavia were having about the kinds of boots that worked best in the forest. It wasn’t long before the dinner was almost over and the rest of the tables were slowly emptying, everyone coming up to thank Russell. Initially it had been hard to cope with the steady stream of people approaching the table, but after a while, Bellamy draped an arm over the back of her chair, leaning back casually - which to anyone else would look perfectly natural - and asked her if she needed to leave. She shook her head at him, intent on proving Miller wrong, and a small smile tweaked his lips. Miller was talking about the buckles on his boots and she made a face at him. 

“I’m telling you, I lived in the forest for _six years,_ and those pieces of shit that you wear do not work, buckles be damned,” she said triumphantly.

Miller snorted. “You’re talking about Earth, this is Sanctum and the dirt is different–”

“–that doesn’t change–”

“–Miller’s might be bad, but mine are definitely better than yours for rough terrain, Clarke.” Octavia poured her another glass of wine, grinning as Clarke squinted at her in faux annoyance.

“For rock climbing, maybe,” she took a sip and leaned back in her chair, “but this is the forest floor we’re talking about.”

Russell and Diyoza were both chuckling at them, and Clarke opened her mouth to continue the _(winning!)_ argument, but Bellamy leaned across and pried the drink from her hand. She turned to grouch at him, but he was already finishing it off.

“That’s mine,” she said, too distracted watching the bob of his Adam’s apple to really be that bothered.

He put the glass down and turned to face her, which in her tipsy state was more than a little disconcerting. He was just very _there._

“It’s getting pretty late. I think it’s time we head back, don’t you Princess?”

And she was definitely drunker than she thought because there was no way that Bellamy just called her ‘Princess’. Except he _must have,_ because his eyes widened a fraction and he looked away quickly, making to push his chair out and stand up.

The slip of the tongue didn’t go unnoticed either; Diyoza was practically grinning, Miller and Jackson shared a knowing look, and Octavia was smirking across the table at them.

“Don’t,” Bellamy warned, before jabbing a finger in his sister’s direction, “you especially – just _don’t.”_

She raised her hands in surrender, “I didn’t say anything.”

He just continued glaring at her.

“Okay,” she said, rolling her eyes, right before she made eye-contact with Miller and they both practically collapsed into the table from laughing so hard.

Bellamy’s eyebrows drew together in frustration but he didn’t say anything except, “Thank you, Russell, but we really should be going.”

“Of course,” he shook Bellamy’s hand and Clarke stood up, lazily saluting Diyoza as she made to leave.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” she said earnestly, “and Russell, are you sure you don’t mind if I use that room by the lake–”

“Like I said before, it’s yours; paint to your heart’s content.”

“Not sure my heart’s felt content in years, but I take your point,” she remarked. Diyoza raised her glass to the statement and Octavia sobered as she looked up at her, but Clarke was just tipsy enough not to feel self-conscious. She was semi-aware of a few other heads at the table jerking up to look at her, but she didn't want to think about how much she'd just exposed herself; she was definitely ready for the night to be over. Bellamy’s hand landed on the small of her back and he started ushering her towards the exit.

She held her breath on the way through the small groups of people still milling around, and Bellamy moved closer, keeping her sheltered on one side. She had to remind herself to thank him for that when she was less buzzed and wouldn’t embarrass herself.

Before long, they were back in the apartment and Bellamy was handing her a glass of water. She sipped it as she stepped out of her shoes and padded into the bedroom.

She’d thought the alcohol might help, but even now she still felt the anxiety curling up her spine at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as the man she was in love with.

She put the water down on the bedside table a little harder than she intended as she sat on the edge of the mattress, resting her head in her hands. She could hear Bellamy rustling around, but she just closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths.

“You good?” He asked gruffly, closer than she expected.

She lifted her head and he was standing in front of her, holding her pyjamas out. She took them, smiling weakly. “Fine. Tired. You?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Tired. I’m always tired.”

“Me too.” She admitted. She tilted her chin up at him. “It’s not easy being in charge, is it?”

He huffed, barely a laugh, but it was there. His gaze met hers with some kind of heat to it, although she was too tipsy to recognise which kind. “No it isn’t. Lucky we have each other then, huh?”

She dropped her head immediately, not wanting him to seeing the tears forming in her eyes at the mention of a time when they were co-leaders, when they were best friends, without this history between them. She swallowed. “I have to, uh… pyjamas, so.”

She made to leave, but he put a steadying hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get changed in the bathroom; I’ll knock when I’m done.”

He left and she scrunched her fingers into the material of her dress and exhaled slowly. She could do this. They were adults. They could do this.

She stripped off her dress and pulled on the comfortable black pants and tank top she used as pyjamas, only agonising about whether or not to keep her bra on for a few minutes before the desire to be comfortable outweighed her Bellamy-related-panic and she removed it.

Bellamy tapped on the bathroom door and she opened it, coming chest to chest with him in his own black sleep clothes and she took a step back instinctively.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Toothbrush.”

He just nodded pensively as he moved towards the bed and she pointedly wasn’t thinking about how nice he smelled when she stepped into the bathroom and saw the pink blush on her cheeks. It was definitely from the alcohol.

_(It absolutely wasn’t)._

She brushed her teeth, ran her fingers through her hair, and steeled herself, muttering, “This is ridiculous,” right before she entered the bedroom and saw Bellamy sitting up in bed, reading a book.

_(And fuck, it **was** ridiculous, just how attractive he looked and how much it hurt that she couldn’t have him, and how much of that was her own fault.)_

He didn’t react when she climbed under the covers and pulled them up to her chin, rolling onto her side to face away from him.

Her eyes were already closed when he asked, “Do you want the light off?”

“No, don’t worry about it,” she said, in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone.

“Are you sure? I can–”

“I promise you, Bellamy, I can sleep in most conditions; a bit of ambient light isn’t going to bother me.”

“Is _that_ why you offered to sleep on the floor?” He teased. “Because you wanted to prove you could still sleep wherever you want?”

“Shut up,” she huffed, but there was a smile on her lips and she knew he heard it because he turned the light off and switched the small lamp over his head on instead. That was Bellamy all over – always trying to do the right thing.

It was a weird dichotomy of emotions; being simultaneously the most comfortable she’d ever been and also more stressed than she realistically should be. She felt safe by his side, she always had. However, she was practically vibrating with the desire to touch him and kiss him and tell him how much she wanted him, and she knew she couldn’t. She knew he didn’t feel that way. Having Bellamy lie next to her while she tried to get to sleep was _exhausting_ and she wished it was the kind that would help her get to sleep faster, but she was so on edge that it took the better part of an hour, in which Bellamy finished his book, turned the light off and went to sleep himself.

When she finally did go to sleep, the same dream that had been taunting her since Praimfaya slipped through.

_Clarke, lying on the grass in the valley and looking up at the stars, wondering which of them is the Ring._

_Someone sitting down next to her, winding his fingers through hers._

_“I miss you.” She whispers, like she always does._

_“I’m right here Princess.” He props himself up on his elbow and leans over her, blocking out the stars that blink cruelly at her, telling her he’s never coming home._

_“No you’re not.” She says, and it hurts, but she has to say it. Every time, she has to say it, because if she doesn’t, it hurts too much when she wakes up. “I miss you so much, Bellamy.”_

_He leans down, nose brushing hers. “I’m sorry.”_

_She runs her fingers through his curls, tugs him closer until his lips are almost on hers. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”_

_“But I’m not here for you.” He says, sounding heartbroken at the thought. “I’m not here, and you need me.”_

_“This is enough,” she murmurs, because it has to be._

_It has to be enough._

_He presses his forehead to hers. “I’m coming home, Princess. Someday soon. I promise.”_

_“Yeah.” She whispers back. “You always do.”_

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy woke up on his own side of the bed and rolled over to see that Clarke was almost uncomfortably curled to the edge of her own side, like even in sleep she was trying to get away from him.

He couldn’t honestly blame her.

He was almost angry at himself for hoping that he might wake up with her in his arms. It was pathetic, really, how much he wanted her even after all this time.

While she had fallen asleep within minutes of her head hitting the pillow, he’d stayed awake pretending to read. He told himself he was trying, but he couldn’t deny that his eyes kept crossing to her. He couldn’t see her face properly from the angle he was sitting at, but still he looked. It had never quite had time to sink it, back on Earth; the fact that she was _here,_ she was _alive._

Clarke, the woman he’d loved and lost so many years ago, was right there.

And he was too much of a coward to reach out.

Even after he broke up with Echo, even after she told him he was being pathetic not just talking to Clarke, even after they spent weeks dealing with the Eclipse and then diplomatic negotiations, he still never tried to cross the line.

They were friends again. Tentative ones, but… they were almost back to the way they used to be, and he knew he was a coward, but he didn’t have the strength to mess with that.

Not if it meant losing her again.

So he suffered in silence next to her while they led their people. Again.

Then, he had realised she was uncomfortable around people, and especially once they arrived at Janus, that she was completely overwhelmed in crowds. So, like an idiot, he’d offered to be her anchor. Which involved standing close by her side. And _touching her._

And he was going out of his mind.

Because he knew it was helping her – she was less twitchy when he was close by – but he also knew that all he could think about was running his fingers down her spine, burying his face in her hair, pressing his lips to her neck, and he felt like a terrible person.

“I’m an asshole.” He muttered to himself as he threw off the covers and shuffled into the kitchen. He started making coffee, still half-asleep and trying to shake it off. He poured two mugs and was about to head back towards the bedroom when Clarke walked in.

“Hey.” She smiled softly, the sun hitting her and making her hair glow brightly around her tired, contented expression. “Is that for me?”

His heart did a backflip and he hated himself for it. He held the mug out. “Yeah, I was just going to bring it to you, but you’re awake, so.”

“As long as it’s got caffeine in it,” she grabbed it with both hands and for a moment, she was holding his hand to the cup. He let it go, heat rising into his cheeks.

Wow, he really needed to get a grip.

 

 

 

Things went on like that for the next three days; he acted like a lovestruck idiot and Clarke was coolly detached, running through her days like it was nothing.

The only thing that was unusual was that Clarke always seemed to be in bed first, already on her side facing away from him, and that every night she was on a _different side._

He assumed she was doing it deliberately, to tease him because he hadn’t picked a side when she asked, but it was also a form of mild torture and he was going insane.

The fact that she swapped sides every night meant that every time he put his face to a pillow, he was practically assaulted with the smell of her and the thought of her lying right where he was and he was almost certain that this was punishment for one of his many sins. He had to sleep next to the girl he was in love with, unable to do anything about it, while she unwittingly rubbed it in his face.

Then, on the fourth morning, for the first time, he woke up to find her pressed up against him. They had gravitated towards each other in their sleep, something they had both avoided doing thus far. But not anymore; she was on her side, face tucked into his chest and their legs tangled together.

He wanted to die, just a little.

He should get up. He should disentangle them and go straight to the kitchen and forget about it, but instead, he lingered. Fingers found her hair and brushed it from her face and he couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful she looked in sleep. He wished he could see that expression on her face more often, but he knew better than anyone how impossible that was.

It occurred to him then that this was the first time he’d been this close to her since Monty and Harper woke them from cryo, that both of them had been giving each other space, whether they meant to or not. He wished they were at the point where he could just settle into the mattress and bring her closer and not have to worry about the consequences, but they weren’t.

So he carefully extricated himself from her side and went to the kitchen to make coffee.

He poured her one and left it on the bedside table with a note telling her not to bother going into town today, that she deserved a day off. He knew she was worried about Madi coming down in two days, and about how everyone would integrate with the new society, and about whether the people she used to call friends would ever forgive her. Over the last few days he’d seen how hard she was working to be useful, to help everyone, but she was burning the candle at both ends and she needed to rest.

So he attended the council meetings with Russell and his friends where they discussed food distribution and the possibility of building new apartment structures and expanding the city for the influx of people, and the empty seat next to him just drew more and more attention until finally someone cracked.

That someone was Murphy. Naturally. “Hey, uh, where’s Clarke? You didn’t _actually_ kill each other, did you?”

“I let her sleep in,” he said nonchalantly. “She’s been doing a lot lately; she deserves the rest.”

“What do you mean _let_ her sleep in? Doesn’t she have an alarm or anything?”

“No she tends to just wake up when I make coffee, but she didn’t this morning, which I figured was a good enough reason to just let her stay in bed.”

It was at that point that he realised that half the room was staring at him. That was _also_ when he realised that his friends didn’t know about his living situation.

“Bellamy, answer me this one thing,” Murphy’s eyes were twinkling. “Where does Clarke sleep?”

_Shit._

_Fuck._

_Shit._

“In our apartment,” he said, trying to act like it was nothing. Russell really didn’t need to find out about his and Clarke’s unwitting lies to him _during_ a council meeting – that would be an ironic destruction of diplomacy.

“In… in your apartment.” Raven repeated.

“Which you _share_.” Murphy added.

“Yep.” He folded his arms menacingly. “You got a problem?”

Murphy just smirked. “No. No problem at all. Mr _Griffin.”_

He shook his head in amused disappointment. “Shut up, Murphy.”

“But seriously, like, who wears the pants in the relationship?” Emori added. “It’s Clarke, isn’t it?”

“Do you wake up first and then stare at her creepily before you get up?” Octavia joined in.

“Which one of you cooks?” Raven teased.

“Wow you all really think we’re at the point where we can joke about this?” He asked, glaring around at them. “Last week you still hated Clarke, now you’re fine?”

“Look, you were right,” Raven admitted. “We were being unfair. But we talked about it, and we’ve all seen how hard she’s been working since we got here.”

“Uh huh,” he set his jaw, unimpressed.

“You’re clearly aiming for your reconciliation to be a permanent thing,” Echo said, looking like the words were physically painful for her to say. “We decided we didn’t want to get in the way of that.”

“Oh, ‘we’ did, did we?”

“Okay, it was mostly Murphy talking us round, but in the end it was all of our decision,” Raven admitted.

“And I’ve had no problems with Clarke since we woke up, so,” Octavia said, noncommittal.

He loosened his arms, surveying them all. “You’re all fine with this?”

“I mean, I was hoping that one day you’d realise I was the one for you–” Murphy was cut off by the bread roll Emori tossed into his face. He only grinned. “But yeah. We’re pretty sure that we’ve been the only thing holding her back from jumping you constantly, and standing in the way of true love isn’t a cute look.”

The rest of his friends all voiced their agreement and he found himself feeling more relaxed than he had in a very long time.

“Seriously?”

“Don’t look so surprised, Blake. Just because you’re a better person than us doesn’t mean we’re _incapable_.” Murphy winked and clapped him on the back.

Now all he wanted was to go back to his apartment and tell Clarke, but unfortunately he had jobs to do and responsibilities to attend to, so he scrubbed a hand down his face and promised himself he’d talk to her that night.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

Clarke woke up to the familiar smell of coffee, but this time there was no Bellamy to hand it to her. Instead it was next to her, sitting on top of a folded piece of paper. She sipped it as she read the note, written in his familiar scrawl.

 _Clarke,_  
_I know I should have woken you, but you seem exhausted lately. I’m putting my foot down –_  
_you’re having a day off, Clarke. Don’t even try and argue; by the time you’ve read this_  
_I will have already told Russell that you need a break, so you may as well just take the time for yourself._  
_I mean it, Princess, get some rest._  
_See you tonight,_  
_Bellamy_

She snorted. Only he would sign a note that literally could not have come from anyone else. She folded it back up and placed it carefully on the bedside table, putting the empty coffee mug down on top of it again, to keep it there.

A day to herself.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one of those. A day where she didn’t need to lead anyone or take care of Madi or worry about anything. A day just for her.

She hated the idea.

She didn’t function well just thinking about herself; she worked best when she was focussed on something else. But now, she supposed, she had time to learn how to be okay in her own company.

So she started with breakfast.

Then moved on to the gardens, walking through them and trying to enjoy the ability to just sit and breathe in the nature around her instead of fearing it.

Then she went for a walk, travelling aimlessly through the castle and avoiding the crowds, until she ended up on one of the rooftops overlooking the rest of the city. She sat down on the edge, dangling her legs over it as she stared out at the hustle and bustle of the peaceful society below her. It was easier to cope with when she could separate herself from it; from afar, she could breathe easier, and she could appreciate the second chance they'd been given here. 

_(Maybe there’s more to life than just surviving)._

Maybe she finally had a chance to live.

“Hey there Princess. Room for two?” a familiar voice said, and she felt a smile tweak her lips.

“No-one calls me that anymore, Murphy.” She said, rolling her neck to look up at him. He grinned right back, making a show of sitting down next to her and swinging his legs out into the open air.

“I know for a fact that at least one person still does,” he said, nudging her slightly.

“You heard that, huh?”

“Nah.” He chuckled. “I overheard Russell saying to Diyoza how sweet it was.”

Clarke groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. _(Well, at least that meant that Russell was still sold on them as a couple. As if that was any comfort)._

“Don’t sweat it, Princess,” Murphy bumped shoulders with her again. "I think it's cute."

She elbowed him in response. They sat for a few minutes in silence, just listening to the sounds of Janusians as they went about their days. Clarke wondered how their own people would meld into the society, how long it would take for living like this to feel normal.

“So, I spoke to the others,” Murphy finally said. She looked at him quizzically. “They’re done hating you.”

She scoffed. She couldn’t help it.

“I mean it. They know how good you are for Bellamy; not even their own anger at you could blind them from that. He works better when you’re around, Clarke.”

Tears were building in her eyes again and she sniffed and looked away. He didn’t say anything, just sat there with her. For the first time in a while, she felt like she wasn’t completely alone in the world.

When the suns started to drift lower, Murphy squeezed her arm once before clambering to his feet. “Talk to the guy.”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant. “What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“You’re one of the smartest people I know, Clarke. So I want you to know how serious I am when I tell you that you’re being an idiot. _Talk to him.”_

With that, he was gone, and Clarke was left with only the breeze to console her.

 

 

 

Clarke spent a few hours in the room by the lake, painting skylines and flowers she remembered from Earth and hands that were far too familiar to be anyone but Bellamy's. She sketched and drew, and sung old tunes while she worked, humming melodies she thought she'd forgotten years ago. When she finally checked the time, she realised she'd forgotten lunch entirely and was cutting it a little fine for dinner.

There was a vendor in one of the gardens who sold nice looking pastries filled with some kind of vegetables, and she ate it while she made her way slowly down the path, trying to enjoy the ambient sound of the people wandering through the gardens together, following the other pathways. 

She walked back via the Janus Library, and picked out a few old Earth novels to read.

When she returned to the apartment, Bellamy still wasn’t home _(could she call it that?)_ and she decided to get in her pyjamas and read in bed while she waited for him to arrive.

She untucked the covers out on the right side again. Every night she slept on a different side, and she was still surprised that Bellamy hadn’t questioned it, but she hadn’t exactly given him the opportunity. She knew it was pathetic; that she switched sides every night so she could feel closer to him even though he was lying a few feet away. She knew it was pitiful that she relaxed so much easier when she could lie her cheek against the pillow he’d been sleeping on hours earlier, but she kept doing it anyway.

The first book she opened was called, “The Book Thief” and it sucked her in from the first page. Reading a book narrated by Death should have felt morbid, but instead it felt almost cathartic.

 _“ **HERE IS A SMALL FACT:**_  
**_You are going to die._ **

_I am in all truthfulness attempting to be cheerful about this whole topic, though most people find themselves hindered in believing me, no matter my protestations. Please, trust me. I most definitely can be cheerful. I can be amiable. Agreeable. Affable. And that’s only the A’s. Just don’t ask me to be nice. Nice has nothing to do with me.”_

Death’s voice was familiar and alien all at once, and she took comfort in it. It saw the world like an artist; through colours and emotions and humanity. But Death was detached from it in the way only something that snuffed out life could be. Her heart ached at how close she felt to the story barely a few pages in, and she found she couldn’t put it down.

She was nearly thirty chapters in when she fell asleep.

She dreamed the same dream she always did, and when Bellamy lay next to her in the grass, she entwined her fingers with his, trying to remember what it felt like to be that close to him, to be able to reach out to him like it was nothing. He promised her he was coming home and she wished he would stop, because  _he_ was her home and she wasn't his, and she was tired of feeling lost without him.

The next time she opened her eyes was hours later, she could tell because it was dark, and Bellamy was wincing as crouched beside her, putting her book on the floor carefully to ensure she didn't lose her place. He must have been in the process of taking it from her when she woke.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.” He said, voice hushed. There were fingers stroking her hair soothingly and she felt her eyes drifting closed again. She didn’t manage to slip back into unconsciousness, however, until she felt the familiar dip of his weight on the other side of the mattress.

 

 

 

 

The next morning, she woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. Namely, she woke up resting her head on Bellamy’s left arm with her face tucked into his shoulder, his right arm draped almost protectively over her waist. She felt better than she had in years, and she never wanted to leave his side.

So of course, she immediately burst into tears.

Bellamy woke up, blinking in the morning light, and looked down at her in a panic.

“Clarke? Clarke, what’s wrong?” His left arm shifted under her head so he could prop himself up on his forearm and lean over her, which only made it worse because this was the same thing she’d been dreaming of for six years and she really didn’t know how to cope with it.

She shook her head frantically, covering her face with her hands while she sobbed.

His face was crinkled in worry and his right hand was still on her waist, rubbing soothing circles into her skin with his thumb. She didn't think he even knew he was doing it.

“C’mon, Princess, talk to me. What’s going on?” His voice was pained, like seeing her upset physically hurt him.

“It’s nothing, I’m sorry,” she whispered, the words stained with tears.

“It’s not nothing.” He held her a little closer, which only made the tide of emotions wash over her again. “Clarke.”

“I just… it’s _so much._ Being here, touching you, it’s overwhelming and I can’t–” She cut herself off when another sob escaped her throat.

His face clouded with something like realisation mingled with distress and he sat back, lifting his hand from her. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. This is too much for you? I’ll give you some space, do you need me to start sleeping on the couch?”

“No!” She grabbed at his shirt when he tried to pull away, fisting the fabric between her fingers and holding him there. He frowned down at her, confused. “That’s not… I mean… It’s not _you,_ Bellamy.”

“Clarke–”

“I don’t deserve it.” She said in a rush. “Being able to wake up next to you, I don’t… I don’t deserve it. Okay?”

She sniffled, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to see the look in his eyes as the words sunk in.

“What?” This time his voice was low, tinged with disbelief, and it rolled through her like a summer afternoon thunderstorm through the valley.

“God, Bellamy, I spent six years raising a kid on my own. I haven’t been touched by anyone in _so long._ Then you came home and I screwed everything up between us but you’re still here, trying to help with my anxiety with crowds and reminding me that I’m not alone anymore and it does help, but every time you touch me I feel like I’m… And it’s _you_ and you’re… you’re _you,_ and I don’t deserve someone as good as you, and it’s just _so much_ , Bellamy, it’s too much, I can’t…”

“Clarke.” He said softly. She shook her head, and rolled back into his chest, crying silently into her fingers that refused to let go of his shirt. He moved his right hand again, stroking the hair back from her face. “Clarke, look at me.”

“I can’t, Bellamy, I _can’t.”_

“Yes you can,” he murmured, tilting her face up towards him with his thumb on her jaw. He left it there, rubbing it back and forth absentmindedly while he waited.

She wiped the tears from her lashes as she opened her eyes, and her gaze caught on his. His eyes were catching the morning light as it streamed in and every emotion he felt was blazing in them: loss, heartache, sympathy, affection.

“Listen to me,” he started, like the beginning of one of his famous speeches and in any other circumstance she might have laughed at the absurdity of it, but right now she was enraptured at the way he was looking at her, the way he was leaning over her, the way his hand still hadn’t left her face. “I spent six years thinking you were _dead,_ Clarke. I never thought I would ever be here, holding you in my arms. I thought I had lost you forever, I thought… but you’re here. We’re alive. We’ve both done things we regret, things we might never forgive ourselves for. But I forgive you. Just like you forgive me, because that’s who we are to each other.”

She clung to him a little tighter.

“You’re my best friend, Clarke.” He said, and it felt like an admission of something deeper. “I don’t know where I’d be without you in my life, and I don’t ever want to find out. Not again.”

“I _missed_ you.” She sobbed.

“I’m right here, Princess.” And it was like her dreams, but it wasn’t, because in her dreams she always knew that he wasn’t really there, that it was just a shadow of the man she loved. This, right here, was _real,_ it was tangible, and she wasn’t about to let it go.

“I love you,” she admitted, eyes locked on his despite the saltwater staining her cheeks and leaking into her hair. “I love you and I’m _sorry–”_

She was cut off when he ducked his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was barely a kiss, just a chaste graze of their lips, but it was more than she had ever hoped for, more than she’d had in so very long, and it was _everything,_ but she wasn’t expecting it and she gasped.

Which of course meant that he stopped instantly; worried that he’d gone too far.

“Was that too much, are you okay?” He asked, eyes raking over her face concernedly.

She nodded hastily _(answering both questions; it was simultaneously too much and more than okay)_ and released his shirt, sliding her hands up until they were on his neck, keeping him close. She took a shaky breath.

“Please don’t stop.”

There was a moment where his expression slackened in surprise and something else that she couldn’t quite catch, and then he bent back down and captured her lips with his own.

This time there was nothing chaste about it. He kissed like he did everything else; passionate and focussed and with all he had.

He was still leaning over her, her head resting against the forearm he was using to prop himself up, and she tugged on his curls and bent her knees until he was lying in the cradle of her hips and he groaned into her mouth, tugging his left arm from beneath her so he could cup her face with both hands. His thumbs swiped the tears from her cheeks, like her embarrassing breakdown didn’t matter to him, like all he wanted was for her to be okay.

All the years spent imagining this moment and she'd never quite gotten it right; the way his calloused palms held her like he didn't believe she was there, the way his beard felt, the way his tongue met hers - the world's most vivid imagination would never compare to the real thing.

Clarke had been caught in acid rain and burned and electrocuted, but Bellamy’s touch made her forget all that. It made her skin feel cool and soft like the first lake she’d dived in after Praimfaya. It was soothing in a way she’d been searching for; years spent aching for something she wasn’t sure she’d ever find. His weight was warm and solid above her and she wanted him to stay there forever.

He pulled back for air, resting their foreheads together while their breaths mingled between them. Her chest rose and fell in tandem with his and he smiled against her cheek, nuzzling closer.

“Hi.” He murmured.

She laughed breathlessly. “Hey.”

“Is this okay?” He asked, nervous, like there was any universe where she wouldn’t want this.

She nodded and laughed again, a stray tear slipping through her lashes and down towards her ear.

“Hey, hey, Princess, none of that,” he caught it and brushed it away. “It can’t have been _that_ bad.”

She snorted, loud and unexpected, and he laughed with her, dropping his forehead to her collarbone to get his bearings. They lay together while the giggles subsided, bodies shaking with mirth, and Clarke started absentmindedly playing with Bellamy’s hair.

He made a strangled noise in his throat. “I really like that.”

“Yeah?” She twisted his curls in her fingers, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp, and he lifted his head up to look at her.

“Yeah.” His eyes were glazed over, half-lidded as he surveyed her.

“I like it when you touch me.” She said, bold despite her nerves, raising her eyebrow the way she always did when she was throwing down a gauntlet.

“That a challenge?” He asked. She lifted her chin up defiantly but didn’t say anything. His lazy smile quirked up into an almost-smirk and he leaned down to kiss her briefly. _“Brave Princess.”_

The jolt of arousal that shot through her at those words was indescribable and she would have been ashamed of the whimper that escaped her if she didn’t see the way Bellamy’s eyes darkened at the sound.

Within seconds, his arms were banded around her waist and he was lifting her up and spinning them both around. Her breath caught in her throat and she flung her arms around his shoulders and gripped him, nails digging into the muscles as they moved.

Now he was sitting – his back against the headboard – and she was in his lap, straddling him. She sat up a bit, tilting back to look at him.

“Really?” The scolding tone didn’t really work when she was smiling and he knew it, stroking up and down her spine idly.

“I like this angle better. I can see you, I can hold you - keep you close - but I don’t feel like I’m trapping you. It’s a win-win.” He shrugged like he hadn’t just said one of the most considerate things she’d ever heard.

She kissed him, yanking at his shirt to bring him flush against her. She was above him at this angle and he seemed to love it, dodging her lips to trail hot kisses underneath her jaw and down her neck, tongue driving her crazy against her thrumming pulse.

He nudged at her lower back with the heel of his hand and when she didn’t take the hint, he mumbled, “sit down,” into the curve of her breast.

She shook her head, trying to distract him by finding his hair again, but he wasn’t fooled.

“Clarke?” He leaned back, catching her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged, looking away. “I’ve seen the girls you been with, Bellamy, and I’m not… I’m not exactly _skinny,_ okay, it’s not a–”

“Oh my god, no, we’re not doing this,” he grumbled, wrapping his arms around her. “I went six years without you, Clarke Griffin. I spent six years not being able to do this, so if you think I’m going to let you get away with feeling insecure right now, you’ve got another think coming. Sit your ass down and let me hug you.”

She huffed _(it was his funeral)_ and lowered her weight until she was properly sitting in his lap. She bit her lip anxiously, half-waiting for him to tell her to move, but he looked more content than she’d ever seen him, Adam’s apple jumping as he looked her up and down longingly. Before long he buried his face in her neck, embracing her tightly and breathing her in. She returned the gesture, clutching at him like she’d never get the opportunity again, nosing her way down his neck and committing the sensations to memory.

 _“Six years, Clarke.”_   He mumbled into her skin.

“Hundred and thirty-one,” she pointed out, just to be contrary, and he groaned.

“That’s _worse.”_

“I know.” She whispered. She kissed under his ear and he squeezed her a little harder. “But you’re here now, and so am I, and we have _time.”_

He slumped, like all the energy he’d been holding suddenly dissipated into thin air, and she held him to her. She knew the feeling; the complete and utter heartbreak that came with the lost time coupled with the intense relief of no longer having to lose it.

It was his turn to sob into her shirt, and she murmured softly to him, not even sure of the words she was saying but knowing that what he needed more than anything was the reminder that she was still there. It was the same reminder she reached for every night with the dip of the mattress and every morning with the smell of coffee. She mumbled calming nothings in his ear until the shaking subsided and she felt his breathing even out. 

“I’m right here,” she said, and he started nuzzling his way back up her neck, past her jaw until he reached her lips again, pressing promises into them with every kiss.

“I love you, Clarke,” and he’d never sounded so sure of anything for as long as she’d known him.

She gasped against his lips and kissed him harder.

His hands were spanning her thighs and it was perfect but she wanted him to move them, to touch her; she wanted him to touch her _everywhere._ She was content to stay that way all day, completely wrapped up in each other, but the universe had other plans _(as usual)_ and someone started knocking on the door.

“Guys, you missed the council meeting this morning, which wouldn’t be a big deal except that Russell is on his way down here to make sure you’re not sick, so I suggest you get some clothes on or something.” Murphy’s voice travelled through the wood and they froze. Bellamy dropped his head against her clavicle, groaning something that sounded an awful lot like,  _"just our fucking luck,"_   and she couldn't blame him.

Clarke sighed and tried to climb off Bellamy’s lap, but he made a disgruntled noise and pulled her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We have lives to get to, Bellamy,” she reminded him.

“So that’s it?” He asked softly, smoothing her hair back from her face.

“For now,” she pecked his cheek quickly before she slid off him and dragged him to his feet. “We’re definitely continuing this later.”

“Yeah?” He asked, face lighting up, and she rolled her eyes playfully and made to reach for the bedroom door. She was barely in the hallway, however, before he caught up, arms enfolding her from behind and his lips against her shoulder.

She turned her head to see him but before either of them had a chance to do anything, the front door burst open and Murphy scrambled to his feet as he ran in, coming to a halt directly in front of them.

His eyes widened.

“I was joking, but oh my god did you seriously ditch the council meeting for morning sex? I have never respected you more,” he deadpanned. He held his hand up for a high five and Bellamy frowned at it disapprovingly, but Clarke slapped it, grinning.

Bellamy huffed and she kissed his cheek. “Don’t be such an old man, Blake.”

His jaw dropped in mock offense. “You’re so going to regret that later, Princess.”

“I sure hope so,” she said suggestively, and he kissed somewhere behind her ear that made a shiver run down her spine.

“This is nauseating,” Murphy said, but he was beaming between them like it was his birthday and Unity Day rolled into one. There was a kerfuffle in the corridor outside and his head snapped around, remembering why he’d come over in the first place. “Oh shit. Yeah so basically Russell’s throwing another banquet tonight, some kind of traditional Sanctum celebration, and he wants you two to be there, but you weren’t at the meeting so he’s concerned about you. That sounds like him now, so try and look sick or something? Maybe hide? That’s all I got.”

Right on time, Russell and a few Janusians they recognised appeared in the doorway.

“Oh. You’re awake.” His surprise quickly gave way to a knowing look. “I apologise, are we interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Clarke said. She folded her arms over Bellamy’s at her waist and shrugged, hoping she looked suitably sheepish. “It’s just… it’s our anniversary and we lost track of time, and–”

“Ah. Say no more, Miss Griffin,” Russell held up a hand. “I presume Mr Murphy informed you of the banquet this evening?”

“He did.” Bellamy mused. He dropped a kiss to Clarke’s temple before he strode into the kitchen, making a show of pulling mugs down to make coffee.

“It’s to celebrate the solstice – longest day of the year,” Russell explained, shaking his head at the cup Bellamy offered him, “and it runs similarly to the banquet from earlier this week, except it’s held up at a clearing in the forest on the hill. It’s a beautiful night, I hope you’ll attend.”

“Of course,” Clarke smiled as Bellamy passed over her mug and gave one to Murphy before he poured his own. “We’ll be there.”

“Excellent. I will send a car around for you this evening.” He clapped his hands together. “I trust your anniversary – ahem – _celebrations,_ will not affect your duties for the rest of the day?”

Murphy choked on his drink.

Clarke felt a blush rising in her cheeks and when she glanced at Bellamy, he looked equally chastised, running a hand through his hair and avoiding her gaze. She downed half her coffee in a single gulp before she found the nerve to meet Russell's eyes. 

“No, I think we can manage,” she said.

Russell nodded and beat a hasty retreat, footsteps echoing down the corridor as he left with his entourage in tow. Clarke met Bellamy's eye and they hid their embarassed smiles behind their coffee, Clarke draining hers completely. 

Murphy kicked the door closed and rounded on them. “Spill it, Griffin.”

Clarke sighed and put her empty mug in the sink, running her fingers along Bellamy’s lower back as she passed. She never wanted to stop touching him, and judging by his pleased expression, he didn't want her too either. Warmth grew in her chest, making her heart stutter at the thought, and she glanced away to avoid beaming like a lovestruck fool, only to come eye to eye with an expectant Murphy.

She crossed her arms. “I cried, he kissed me, we’re together now. Happy?”

Murphy gaped at her. “NO!”

“Too bad, we have jobs to do and you have leave so we can get dressed.” She said, herding him towards the door.

“If you don’t explain it to me, I’m going to tell the others that you’ve been doing weird sex stuff all morning.”

“Don’t care.”

“But–”

She leaned right in to Murphy’s ear, so only he could hear her. “I haven’t slept with anyone in a hundred and thirty-one years, so if you don’t get out of here in the next _minute,_ you’ve got a front row seat.”

He went pale and booked it out of there faster than Russell had, the door swinging shut behind him.

Bellamy chuckled. “He’s still holding our mug, you know.”

“We’ll get it back at some point,” she waved a hand. “Come on, I need a shower.”

His eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair. “Is that an invitation?”

She tossed a look at him over her shoulder. “What do _you_ think?”

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

In the shower, Bellamy made sure to establish boundaries, to only go as far as Clarke wanted him to, which was confusing because she was pretty responsive to everything he did.

He hadn’t realised just how much she’d been missing out on in those years spent without anyone around to do the small things, like hold her hand or untangle the knots in her hair. She was so tactile under his fingers, leaning against his chest when he lathered her hair in shampoo and kissing across his shoulder while she returned the favour.

He thought being undressed in front of her might have felt like more of a big deal, that it would leave them both vulnerable, but after everything they’d been through it just felt like another piece of their relationship. Like they were always going to get there eventually.

Maybe they were.

She hummed softly to herself as he ran his hands over every inch of skin he could find, fingers dancing across her ribs and over her stomach and down her thighs before moving up again.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said against the back of her neck.

She turned in his arms and hugged him. Her bare breasts were pressed against his chest and all he could think was that this felt the way their hugs were supposed to feel. The way they’d _always_ been together.

Soon though, they had to go their separate ways, and he kissed her, long and warm, tugging teasingly at her damp hair as he left the bathroom. She mumbled her goodbyes against his lips and he could still feel them even after he closed the door and towelled his hair dry.

He got dressed and headed towards the city centre, spending the rest of the morning working with the people who were preparing for the feast that night. Really, he spent most of that time just steeling himself for the onslaught he knew would be coming from his friends when he met them for lunch.

He helped build tables and carry them out to a larger vehicle than he'd seen thus far, stacking it onto the back and watching as it floated off towards the forest. 

It felt like they might finally have found their place in the world. 

Perhaps they could finally stop running and just  _live._

 

 

 

He was hoping that when he sat down in the dining hall and didn't immediately spot his friends, that he might actually survive the day without being grilled about Clarke, but his luck had never been that good, and he was barely halfway through lunch when they appeared. 

“So we heard you finally made a move,” Emori sidled up beside him.

“Although I thought you knew better than to kiss a girl while she was crying,” Raven tutted.

“Yeah, Blake, even I know that’s bad form.” Miller chimed in.

“All of you can shut up,” he growled, spearing his food more aggressively than he needed to. “She was crying because she didn’t feel like she deserved to be happy, so all of you can shut the hell up.”

“Oh.” Raven said quietly.

The rest of them fell silent.

“Hey man, she seemed a lot happier when I got there,” Murphy clapped him on the shoulder in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. “So you must be doing something right.”

“I hope so.” He muttered.

"Clarke Griffin has been in love with you since before Lexa, I'm sure you'll manage fine." Octavia said matter-of-factly as she sat down across from him. At his bewildered look, she just shrugged. "I don't think she realised until after everything with A.L.I.E. but she was."

"You and Clarke don't talk, how can you possibly-"

"-because I have eyes." She rolled them in his direction, for emphasis or to mock him, he wasn't sure. 

"Can you go back to being evil so I can hate you?" Murphy complained. "This is no fun when you get all the good one-liners."

Everyone laughed, and Bellamy finished off his lunch and bid them goodbye; the sooner he got back to work, the faster he hoped his day would go, and the sooner he'd get back home.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

 

The day felt longer now that she knew she could come home and find Bellamy waiting there with open arms, _(or maybe it was just the summer solstice)_ and she cursed Sanctum for having a banquet scheduled for the one day she wanted to avoid everyone in the world except him.

_(That’s a lie, she felt that way all the time, it was just particularly potent because they’d kissed. And confessed their feelings for each other. And showered together.)_

Finally, she ended up back in the apartment, and was pulling on her dress for the festivities when Bellamy returned.

She didn’t notice him at first, too busy zipping it up and smoothing her hands over her stomach as she appraised herself in the mirror. It wasn’t until she turned and saw him leaning against the doorframe, smiling softly at her, that she really felt herself relax.

"Hey." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“I missed you today.” He said, fiddling with the wood of the doorframe distractedly.

“Me too.” She breathed.

“There’s no way we can avoid this dinner, is there?” He joked, but it didn't really feel like one, and Clarke wanted to wipe away the crease between his brows.

She reached out for him and he practically fell into her arms, tucking his face into the crook of her neck like it belonged there. She sighed, content, “I missed this.”

He hummed his agreement against her neck and she knew he knew what she was really saying; she didn’t mean just that day, she meant she’d missed it for years, she meant that she was tired of missing him.

“So we’ll stay for the important parts and then we’ll duck away when no-one’s looking,” he suggested teasingly, stepping back to find something suitable to wear.

The car honked to signal its arrival and she grabbed Bellamy’s jacket off the hook while he yanked his shoes on.

It was all very domestic.

_(She loved it)._

His hand found hers as they locked up the apartment – although that was probably futile considering how Murphy had picked said lock just that morning – and they walked around the corner.

The door to the hovercar, or whatever they called these vehicles _(she’d neglected to ask the first time; too distracted by Bellamy’s close proximity)_ was hanging open, and Murphy was sticking his head out.

“Stop staring dreamily into each other’s eyes for five minutes and get in the damn car,” he yelled.

“He’s going to be insufferable.” Bellamy complained.

“Like he wasn’t already?” Clarke raised an eyebrow.

“Fair point,” he followed her in and slid into the seat next to her. Emori and Murphy were on the other side, facing them, and they each had shit-eating grins on their faces.

The car lurched forward and Clarke’s nails latched onto Bellamy’s thigh. She winced. “Sorry.”

He only shrugged, draping an arm over her shoulder to keep her steady when the car turned. He kissed her cheek and left his lips resting against her temple as she settled into his side.

“You were right, this is disgusting,” Emori stage-whispered to Murphy.

“You better get used to it,” Bellamy said sternly and that seemed to be the end of it, both of them raising their hands in surrender.

 

 

 

 

The dinner had gone pretty smoothly. Clarke had ended up next to Raven this time, and had been planning on elbowing Bellamy all night for putting her in that situation, until Raven leaned over and started talking to her like everything was normal. It took some getting used to, but soon they were back in their old rhythm.

Murphy started stuffing every conversation with innuendos that he was blatantly directing at her and she flipped him the bird over the table. More than once. 

Emori asked her about how excited she was to see Madi the next afternoon, and it didn’t take long for her to feel like she was actually _welcome._

Every now and then, she’d catch Bellamy’s eye and he would lean over and plant a kiss on her lips, like he couldn’t resist, and it made her feel like she was going crazy from desire, but she reasoned with herself that if she had waited that long, she could wait a few more hours.

She didn’t flinch much throughout the night, which she put down to being so engrossed in Bellamy’s company that she forgot the existence of other people, but every now and then something would get to her, and Bellamy’s palm would find its way between her shoulder blades, rubbing soothing circles.

There was some kind of dance around the trees that all the locals knew, and that they watched with a great deal of reverence, applauding and cheering at what felt like the appropriate moments.

Diyoza was invited out onto the valley floor by Russell, and soon everyone was coupling off while music played jovially throughout the forest.

The suns were still sparkling light through the trees, despite it being sometime late in the evening, and everywhere it landed seemed to glow gold.

It was truly beautiful.

She itched to paint it, and she made sure to look around at everything, to commit it all to memory and never let it go.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that look on your face, Griffin.” Raven said conversationally, sipping her wine.

“What’s that?” She asked.

Raven shrugged and patted her arm, getting to her feet. “Happiness.”

Clarke swallowed, the smile falling off her face.

Raven just rolled her eyes.

“Don’t overthink it.” She rapped on Clarke’s forehead, amiable somehow, despite all they'd been through, “Just let it happen.”

Then she was gone and it was only the two of them left at the table. Bellamy ducked his head, his lips brushing her ear when he asked, “Do you want to dance?”

She rested her head on his shoulder. “No, I’m good right here.”

He hummed in agreement and they sat and watched the celebrations for a few minutes. He squeezed her arm. “Or… we could go home.”

“I _am_ feeling a little tired,” she said suggestively, stroking her fingers down his chest and catching on his belt.

He practically fell over himself in his effort to get out of the chair as fast as the possible. She clapped her hand over her mouth to avoid cackling at him and drawing attention.

He made a face at her as he pulled her up and out of the clearing towards the car. “You’re laughing at me.”

“I would never,” she deadpanned, right before she dissolved into giggles.

Luckily, he found her teasing charming, and he scooped an arm around her waist as they walked. By the time they made it into the back of the car and told the driver where they were going, her amusement had died down and she was wearing what was a probably a very goofy grin on her face. He was smiling back at her, eyes brown with flecks of liquid gold in the fading light and she loved him, she loved him, she loved him.

She fell against him when the car swerved and then it was like a switch had been flicked and his mouth was on hers and his hands were roaming over her, bunching in her dress in his attempts to pull her yet closer. She ended up in his lap somehow, tugging his curls while he kissed her passionately and his fingers played with the hem of her dress, sliding slowly up her thighs.

They were so caught up that it took the driver tilting the car so they fell towards the open door _(she didn’t even notice it being opened. Whoops)_ for them to realise they were home. They regained their bearings and stumbled out onto the sidewalk.

“Sorry.” Bellamy waved at the driver, not sounding even remotely like he meant it.

He curled an arm around her and unlocked the apartment, looking around for the light switch. Before he had a chance to find it, she pushed him against the door and kissed him. She moved past his lips, dropping messy kisses down his neck, and he growled, and gripped her thighs, picking her up.

She bit down on his shoulder in retaliation as he carried her through to the bedroom and he laughed and laid her down on the bed, hovering over her. 

She swallowed, nervous. 

The corners of his eyes creased in understanding and he stroked at her sides tenderly, but he didn't make any further move. Her eyes darted over his face, just taking him in, letting herself really _look at him_ in a way she hadn't allowed herself to since they woke from cryo. He seemed to be doing the same, cataloguing her features as he gazed down at her. What had been a heated moment suddenly gave way to something quieter, something momentous, and they stayed still, neither of them quite willing to break it.

She was the first to speak.

“I drew you a lot.” She admitted, carding a hand through his hair. “In those six years, I… I was so worried I would forget what you looked like that I drew you over and over and over until I could do it in my sleep.”

He went next. “Every year, on the Ring, we’d mourn you. Murphy used to tell me I was being pathetic, and I almost believed him, until I found him one day, crying as he sat by the window and looked down at Earth. We sat together and talked about you for hours.”

“I dreamed about you.” She said, bottom lip quivering. “The same dream, all the time. You were lying next to me and promising to come home. You always promised.”

“I dreamed about you too,” he breathed, “and I hated it because it was never enough.”

She nodded frantically, blinking back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again, and he lay down next to her and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her to him.

They lay there, holding each other as close as they possibly could, noses against cheeks and lips just barely touching, and for the first time, Clarke was at peace with being completely overwhelmed with sensory overload. Because every sensation was _him_ , was _Bellamy_ , and it made her feel safe and understood and _home._

They would have time for the rest of it later – for the heat and desire and yearning to take spark and become something more – but right now, this was enough.

_This was more than enough._

**Author's Note:**

> WHADDYA THINK?!?! 
> 
> Comments pay my student loans and clear my skin. 
> 
> Also you should definitely read The Book Thief. It's one of my favourite books in the world and it's BEAUTIFUL. The quote on my tumblr header, which [@fen-ha-fuck-you](https://fen-ha-fuck-you.tumblr.com/) made, is from the book, and honestly I could gush about it for DAYS (both the header and the book) so I highly recommend you read it so you can cry with me. 
> 
> Did I mention that [@fen-ha-fuck-you](https://fen-ha-fuck-you.tumblr.com/) is the greatest? Because she totally is. <3


End file.
